


The Point (of No Return)

by rizcriz



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Angst, Depression, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, season 4 speculation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-20
Updated: 2018-12-20
Packaged: 2019-09-23 03:52:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17072948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rizcriz/pseuds/rizcriz
Summary: Quentin doesn't react well to getting his memories back, or finding out Eliot may be gone.





	The Point (of No Return)

**Author's Note:**

> Strong warning for depression.

There’s a point, Quentin realizes while everyone’s off doing their own thing. There’s a point to all the pain and anguish they have to go through. All the loss. Magic comes from pain, right? To be strong they have to lose everything. He gets it. As much as one can really get that they have to lose everything to amount to anything.

But there’s a point beyond all that. A point that he can’t hide from.

He’s sitting on the roof of Marina’s building, staring up at the stars, wondering how they all got here. The monster is off masquerading in Eliot’s body who-the-fuck-knows-where, and Quentin’s got to find the strength to face off with him one day. When the others track him down. When they figure out how to kill it.

But he doesn’t want to.

And why should he?

Why should he get all his memories back and have to kill the only person he’s ever truly felt connected to? He doesn’t even know if Eliot’s still in there, buried beneath the monster. He doesn’t want to believe he is. He doesn’t want to believe Eliot’s trapped. Neither does Margo.

It makes knowing that they have to kill him so much easier.

Except it doesn’t.

He’s starting to think that’s all his life is now; contradictions.

He also feels like he’s back in his first year at Brakebills, again. It’s all so — overwhelming. Like they spit up every emotion they’ve ever felt when they lost their memories—and now that Margo’s found them all, he’s been forced to swallow it all back down. And there’s a point.

A point where it’s too much.

Remembering he was loved, and that he was in love.

Remember how sick he was—how deep that shit went, and how inescapable it was. It still is.

There’s a point where.

Well.

He leans up on his elbows and stares at the edge of the roof. The ledge that’s just barely low enough for him to climb over.

Eliot would never forgive him.

But Eliot’s dead.

And there’s a point where thinking that thought—it’s louder than everything else. Louder than saving the world. Louder than the potential of Eliot being buried beneath the monster. Louder, louder, louder and more insistent.

Because that’s all he has, as Quentin. His thoughts, and his  _pain_. And this all consuming, overwhelming … emptiness constantly fighting to get to the surface. 

As Brian, before the monster took him, he had a life. A little bit of happiness.

But he’s Quentin now.

And Quentin?

All Quentin’s ever had was Eliot.

And his depression.

There’s a point, he thinks again, shoving so he’s sitting up. His gaze remains locked on the ledge. There’s an underworld. There’s a place where everyone who’s dead goes. And Eliot promised he’d never leave Quentin, and Quentin promised to never leave Eliot, all that time ago in a time that never actually existed.

So if Eliot’s dead; he’s waiting.

And there’s a point where he’ll stop waiting.

Quentin takes a deep breath and shuffles up to his knees, wiping his hands off on the fronts of his jeans. One hand comes up to push his hair behind his ear, but it just falls forward again because it’s not as long as it used to be. There’s a point; fixed and clear in front of him. It’s where he’ll find Eliot.

Not in the books or planning downstairs in Marina’s loft. Not in searching for a way to make the monster leave Eliot’s body.

Right here—in front of him.

In the only place the library can’t truly control anymore.

He stands up, swallowing thickly.

Margo won’t forgive him. None of them will. Julia might even try to bring him back; but there’s a point there, too. When trying to revive what’s been gone for years is futile.

Maybe it was always going to end up like this. Quentin, the volunteer tomato, finally finishing up Janes final loop. It always ended with his death, didn’t it?

He’ll be free. With Eliot. And everyone else can finally stop living to fix his mistakes. Because he’s not the hero. He never was, and he never will be. He’s just the outlier that loved someone who belonged. The nobody who loved a king. There’s a point, where even the others will realize that.

That without him they’re better off.

And that he is, too.

He’ll find Eliot in the underworld. And they’ll be nobodies, together. Souls lost in limbo, but lost together.

That’s the point. Of life, right?

If there’s anything the quest taught him, it’s that the truth to life is love. A life lived.

And he’s  _lived_.

He’s lived so much, and he can’t bear it another minute. Not if he can get to Eliot faster. Not if he knows the answer everybody else refuses to admit.

He takes a few shaky steps towards the edge of the roof, feels the cool night breeze brush against his skin, and through his hair. Almost like it’s inviting him into his embrace. It’ll be alright, it’s saying. He closes his eyes, takes the remaining steps to close the distance. This is the point of no return.

There’s a sound from the stairway, someone asking, “ _Who let him on the roof_?!”

But it doesn’t matter. Because that’s not the point.

The point is where his hands grab onto the railing, and where his feet push him over. Where he clings for a moment.

There’s a point, he thinks as he opens his eyes. And this is it.

His  _breaking_  point.

Right here, where his skin slips away from metal, and he leans forward. Where the wind carries him home.

Home, where his heart is. And it’s down below; where he reunites with Eliot.


End file.
